


To Look in the Mirror

by theCrowe



Series: Mercenary Group - K7 [3]
Category: BattleTech: MechWarrior
Genre: DCMS, Draconis Combine, Gen, Kurita - Freeform, Mercs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theCrowe/pseuds/theCrowe
Summary: The past catches up with a man who has made a fine military career in the wake of his involvement in the Kentares Massacre when agents of the K7 strike.





	To Look in the Mirror

To look in the Mirror

Benjamin: Deber City : DCMS Military Command Centre  
2827

Tai-sho Ikari shoved himself back in his wingback leather chair before rising to his feet with a groan that came from a combination of middle age and a sedentary lifestyle.  
His office in the Benjamin district military command centre was well appointed and imbued him with all the power of the upper echelons of military bureaucracy. Each promotion, each certificate; Each trophy, award and photograph was framed, hung and presented to tell the story of the man standing now in the centre of it all.  
He leaned on his vintage New Samarkand redwood desk and thumbed the intercom.

"Mrs Landingham I need the..." something was wrong, the line was dead.  
He thumbed the button in frustration. The little red indicator light remained stubbornly unlit. He sighed verbally as he crossed his deep piled Azami rug to the door of his secretary’s office.

" I need the files for the..."

The room was empty.  
More than that there was a disquieting silence hanging in the air. He poked his head gingerly around the door peeking into the corridor beyond. Nothing. The door creaked like an intruder alarm as he eased it open and tip-toed through.

A body lay in the corridor a couple of doors away. Stepping lightly he crossed the distance in seconds and knelt down at the man's side. He was a security guard and his side arm was missing. Ikari cursed under his breath and retreated to the relative safety and familiarity of his office. 

Rushing to the desk he removed an ornate pistol box marked "a gift from the co-ordinator" tossing the carven wooden lid aside he fumbled the pistol and with shaking hands dropped the clip to check his ammunition. 

Why didn't he keep this thing loaded? He cursed again and began rummaging in the bottom drawer, and then he remembered. The pistol was a rare and exquisite piece so rare in fact that the ammo it required was neigh impossible to acquire. It could be fired but it was really only meant for an ostentatious gift. He threw the piece down contemptuously his eyes searching the room frantically for another weapon. 

Behind the desk hung his family crest adorned above with the sword of his father. It was old and hadn't seen an oil stone in decades but it would serve. He grabbed it down and crept noiselessly to the door.

A hand struck out grasping his wrist and twisting his sword arm down to the floor. Another man pounced and with a hand on Ikari’s face compelled him backwards into his office. In flurry of action too quick to follow he was disarmed and dropped to his knees, his arms were trussed up behind his back and bound at the elbows with a rope that also looped cleverly around his throat. A masked man stood before him observing another who worked at his binding. A third went to work rifling the filing cabinet.

" What is this?" Ikari demanded weakly "who the..." he twisted around pulling his hands away from the man behind him who was trying to apply long black industrial rubber gauntlets to his bound arms. He overbalanced and fell forward facedown in the rug the rope around his throat choking him as he struggled to free his arms. A boot pressed his head deeper into the luxuriant rug pile as the gauntlets were forcefully applied. They then hauled him up roughly and set him back on his knees a look of wild rage brewing in his red face.

"Tai-sho Ikari." a deep baritone voice began within the plain black mask before him.  
"We brand you with the blood of kentares. Your participation in the massacre was no small part and as such has earned you both the position you enjoy and also the shame you may no longer ignore."

"What are you talking about?" Ikari blurted "There must be some mistake! I piloted an Ostscout on Kentares. I was on recon I hardly killed by the thousand! Of all the..."

"You participated in and assisted the murder of tens of Thousands!” his captor interrupted, a note of anger entering his tone.  
“Not soldiers, nor even fighting rebels” he continued “mere survivors, miserable cowering women and children, whom you exposed and thus consigned to their fate. They called you the bloodhound. I assure you Honourless dog there has been no Mistake."

"Name me dog will you?” Ikari interjected “You who hide behind your mask like a coward and dish out Punishments! Where is your honour?" His irritation was not helped by the itching in his gloved hands. He twisted uncomfortably trying to scratch but only succeeded in chocking himself on the rope.  
"How Dare you presume?" He rasped, "You know nothing of Kentares! I was there, I performed My sworn oath of duty to the coordinator. I upheld the law and order of the combine! I maintained my honour!"

"No, Ikari. It is you who presume!"

The masked man removed a glove from his own right hand and showed a scarlet hand.

" I too was at Kentares. We both followed the same orders of mad Jinjiro. The same blood stains both our hands." he let the import of this revelation sink in before continuing.

" I too was there when the Seven fell, and… I am ashamed to say, I too rejoiced in our triumph that day."

Ikari had seen hands like his captor's before. This man had surely been there. He knew now that they were in earnest, and perhaps what they were searching for in his office.

"You won't find anything," he spoke over his shoulder to the man going through his desk drawers.  
"The ISF took everything relating to Kentares IV. Staff rosters, personnel files, body counts, it’s all extremely classified. And most particularly anything pertaining to the Sell-sword Six." he squirmed, his arms itching.

"And I assure you," he returned pointedly to his masked interviewer, "They were six. Or surely you don't count that farm whelp and his jury rigged agro-mech for a seventh! Yes I recall them well. They beheaded my Ostscout for their trophy pile! They were worse than pirates! Forcing their captives into sham seppuku executions; Deserters and butchers all! I only barely escaped with my life. Your rejoicing in their demise is no shame to bear."

"I once too thought as you do. You see, Ikari, they did this to me, the Seven."  
He removed his second glove revealing another mutilated red hand.

"My Burns still stung as I drew my sights upon them and pulled the triggers. I was young, and angry. Only later did I learn what it really meant to own the blood of Kentares."

Seeing the violent red skin of his captor’s hands Ikari was suddenly more aware of the tingling itch creeping deeper into his own bound hands. What had the man said? The same blood... The industrial rubber gloves brought the reality of what was occurring to his mind. The itching Was becoming more intense, starting to burn. There was something in the gloves. Something that was burning his skin; Burning his hands red as blood.

"Then who are you to lecture me? Are we not the same you and I?"

"Yes Ikari,” the masked man sighed “Yes and no. We shared in the same crime, The same shame stains us both. The difference is that while I resigned my commission and foreswore my oath to the bloodthirsty dragon you grew fat on the dragons rewards for feeding his bloodlust.”

"Bloodlust!? It is but conquest. We are at war you imbeciles!" his voice was straining now. He was clearly in great pain as his hands burned within the gauntlets.  
"You cowards shrink from what must be done in the name of unity under the dragon's..."

"No Tai-sho it is your cowardice that has allowed you to ignore the innocent blood on your hands for so long while your delusions only serve to distract you from any such pricks of conscience. Now we have made it plain for all to see how you achieved your position."

"You dare judge and sentence me you traitors…” he bared his teeth biting off a cry of pain which his pride would not allow him. “Deserters!"  
He thrashed free of their grip and writhed in agony on the floor twisting to keep his weight off his tortured arms and choking himself in the process. "You think this justice?" he gasped between fits of coughing.

"No, not justice. There can be no justice for Kentares IV. Nor can we ever do penance enough to atone, nor is there any punishment fitting our crime."

The masked man put on his gloves and then lifted his charge quite tenderly from the deep piled carpet and set him back upon his knees. A grimace fixed in Ikari’s deep red face spoke volumes to his suffering. The man gave a nod to his aid who removed Ikari’s gauntlets and poured water from the Tai-sho’s desktop decanter over his mutilated hands. The relief was evident but they did not loosen his bonds.

"What then is your point?” he spoke softly though his pride was not yet beaten, “Why do this to me? Why now? Why?"

"To bring you into the light, Ikari. That the blood on your hands be known to all who follow you, that every man you greet might know your deeds. To show you for what you are, but most especially to force you to look in the mirror.”

“And when you stop running from the man you see there” he continued “you will realise that we have released you from your secrets; Your fear, your hidden shame. When you claim them, in place of your false honour you will see that what we have done this day is a gift. We have released you from the lie you live and brought you to the fullness of truth."

“You are madmen! They say the coordinator has gone mad but you are truly perverse. You call this torture a gift? You call an honourable warrior a liar and a murderous coward!"

"Only when you accept this enlightenment as a gift will it release you. Until then you must relearn what it is to live with the blood of Kentares on your hands."

Of a sudden a chemical soaked kerchief drowned Ikari’s breath and a red darkness flooded his vision. 

When Ikari awoke he lay alone on his office floor, the pain in his hands had settled to a numb ache. His eyes fell upon the sword which he had dropped when his assailants had grabbed him. It was a rude replica of an ancient samurai blade; Forged well enough to serve but not an exquisite beauty by any means. It bore his family crest upon the pommel and was no less proud for its signs of ware and hard use. Tai-sho Ikari closed his eyes and turned away for he knew in his heart he could never bring himself to lay his hands upon it again.


End file.
